


Skies of Blue

by CoffeeQuill



Series: Our Roots [4]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Airplanes, Airports, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baby Firsts, Bounty Hunters, Day At The Beach, Domestic Fluff, Drinking & Talking, Fatherhood, First Steps, Fluff, Found Family, Guns, Scars, Tattoos, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24340801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeQuill/pseuds/CoffeeQuill
Summary: He finds himself reaching into his pocket, pulling out an envelope. Eyes half on the road, he checks again that they have their papers. Printed flight reservation, his own ID with passport and driver’s license, the kid’s new birth certificate and vaccination records.Not that it’s a real birth certificate. But it should be enough for anyone who asks.Signs for the airport start to appear, and Din lets out a sigh as he pulls his cap down further.------Din and the kid fly to meet with Cara for a needed vacation.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Cara Dune, Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Our Roots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754920
Comments: 28
Kudos: 143





	1. High in the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> The [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N)  
> Follow me on [tumblr](https://coffee-quill.tumblr.com/)

The road is quiet. Soft music plays from the radio, something to listen to other than the constant sound of the engine. There are few other cars in sight, only a dozen or so that pass in the other direction, and Din’s eyes are locked on the road.

The sky has been a brilliant blue all day, some clouds in sight, picturesque despite the biting chill. Since they’ve been driving, it’s begun to set, and pink is streaking across the sky with orange behind it.

Two hours left.

Din looks up into the mirror. The kid is sucking on his new pacifier, looking out the window with sleepy eyes. He’s blinking slowly.

“Hey.” Din keeps his hand steady on the wheel and turns back, snapping his fingers. “Stay awake, kid. You can sleep when we’re flying.”

The baby looks at him.

“Stay awake.  _ Nu nuhoy.” _

The kid begins to whimper, tears forming, and Din sighs as he turns back around. He’s usually asleep now, he knows, and he feels bad to keep the kid awake. But a crying baby on a plane is something  _ no one  _ wants.

Their entire lives are packed into the car, smushed into suitcases and carry-ons, ready to disappear and leave another state behind. Their bags have to be checked, his tactical gear already sent ahead of time by ground. Now it’s just moving everything else, checking bags and getting through security. He grumbles. He hasn’t had to get the kid through TSA before, and the hassle of getting checked himself with a baby on his hip and a carrier to handle --

At least Cara has promised to already have a car seat.

He finds himself reaching into his pocket, pulling out an envelope. Eyes half on the road, he checks again that they have their papers. Printed flight reservation, his own ID with passport and driver’s license, the kid’s new birth certificate and vaccination records.

Not that it’s a real birth certificate. But it should be enough for anyone who asks.

Signs for the airport start to appear, and Din lets out a sigh as he pulls his cap down further.

Settling into a seat at their gate, Din is  _ relieved. _

Security was less of a hassle than he’d expected, but it doesn’t stop the baby from being upset. He’s held in a sling at Din’s chest but clearly miserable at still being awake, squirming and whimpering with his head buried against his front. “Dadaaaa,” he whines.

“Shh.” Din supports him with one arm, the other gentle in running through the boy’s hair. “You can sleep soon, I promise.”

The baby sniffles and lets out small cries, but it isn’t a tantrum. Din rubs his back, leaning their foreheads together. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know.”

“His first flight?”

Din’s head jerks up at a familiar voice and he watches a man in brown sit beside him. He stares as Greef Karga settles into the seat, looking around at the other gates before finally to him.

Din stares at him, not speaking.

“Long time no see, Mando.”

Din swallows. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Flying to Cali, like you.” Karga smiles. The baby’s whimpers have stopped as he stares up at the Guildmaster, eyes big, and coos. “What’s on the west coast for  _ you?” _

Din stares at him, then shifts, looking ahead. “Like you don’t know,” he says.

“I’m not  _ sure  _ that I do. Unless you’re coming back for Guild work, in which case, I’m more than thrilled that--”

“Cara,” Din snaps. “We’re visiting Cara.”

“Ah.” Karga just smiles and wriggles his fingers at the baby, who coos before reaching out and grabbing them. Then his eyes start to close. “This one seems tired.”

“I want him to stay up so he’ll sleep during the flight,” Din says.

“I hope he does.” Karga holds up his ticket. “12A.”

Din pauses, then reaches for his ticket and looks at it. “12B.”

“Hope he sleeps,” Karga says with a smile.

Din stares at him, then grumbles and gets up. “Watch the bag,” he mutters before starting towards the bathroom. He adjusts the strap of his backpack, feeling the child fuss against his chest. He turns and throws glances back towards the gate, eyes searching.

One.

Two.

Three.

Din turns again, grumbling. Of course. He’s pent up like a coil about air travel, but Karga can only be so relaxed if he’s got an entourage of hunters following him. Probably some east coast score. Not that he cares to know. He walks into the bathroom -- mostly empty. He steps into the nearest open stall, locks it behind him, and pulls his backpack from his shoulders.

He crouches down with it. A few diapers, snacks, his chargers, his tablet. But he reaches past it to the bottom, taking out a bundle of black fabric. Slowly, he unwraps the beskar cloth, the hand gun revealed beneath, and then reaches in for the holster. He takes off his outer and inner coats, layers it on top, and secures it into place. He’s quick and quiet as he unwraps the ammunition, sliding it into place, and holsters the gun.

The baby continues to fuss.

Din slips his coats back on, zips up the bag, and hits the flusher. As the toilet roars, he slings the bag back onto his back, comforted by the presence of the weapon, and steps out.

Beskar cloth is just about the greatest invention his people have come up with, designed in the wake of TSA and the New Republic’s crackdown on weapon transportation. It’s delicate and precious, the metal embedded in the thread stitched through the whole cloth, enough to jam sensors and disguise what it’s wrapped around. The TSA agents haven’t given enough of a damn to search him, and it’s been a blessing.

He washes his hands, slips his gloves back on, and begins walking back to the gate.

Karga and their carry-on is still in place, but now the hunter entourage has moved, the three instead taking the seats next to Karga. There  _ were  _ other people sitting there. Din pauses but keeps walking. The baby’s head is pushed against his chest, and he’s becoming still as he drifts towards sleep.

Their heads all look up to watch him, eyes narrowed. Din looks back.

He might be on  _ okay terms  _ with the Bounty Hunters Guild, but he still killed a hell of a lot of them during his flight with the kid.

“Caleb is a nice name.”

Din stops and stares at Karga, then looks to the envelope tucked into the side of the carry-on suitcase, placed decidedly  _ different.  _ He storms over and grabs it out, scowling. “That’s not yours to look at,” he hisses before sitting again.

“A nice fake birth certificate, too.” 

“I don’t have a fucking real one, okay?” Din snaps, his voice low. He shoves the envelope into his jacket pocket. “I just need them to allow him as a lap infant.”

“You can get him a real one.”

“I don’t have the damn time for that red tape. He had a chain code before. They’ll stick him with that and I don’t want him associated with it anymore.”

_ “I  _ can get him a new one,” Karga says. Din looks at him, and he’s given a smile. “I have my contacts in the New Republic. Old friends who still owe. It won’t be much to get him a new identity as  _ Caleb Djarin.” _

Din stares at him, then leans back, arms wrapping around the kid.

“Just let me know, Mando, and I’ll pull the strings.”

Din watches him, jaw set. One arm wraps around the sleeping ‘Caleb’ as the other covers his head, stroking through dark hair. The baby cuddles closer to him, breathing soft and controlled as he slumbers.

Din starts to feel tired himself. He leans back and keeps rubbing the baby’s back, letting his eyes shut.

Most of the flight isn’t as terrible as Din anticipated it being. ‘Caleb’ sleeps through boarding, but it’s the air pressure of takeoff that wakes him, drawing out frustrated little whimpers as he shoves his face into Din’s neck. Din leans down and fishes through his backpack for the pacifier. Every second that passes, the whimpers become louder, into desperate warnings of a tantrum.

The first wail breaks through, earning several looks from the people around them.

One of the hunters in front of them turns around, scowling. “Shut it up.”

“Fuck yourself,” Din hisses back before pulling out the pacifier. 

“Calm down!” Karga snaps at the hunter, who scowls. “It’s a baby on a plane. They cry.”

Din shoves it into the kid’s mouth, who takes it but continues to release muffled whimpers. Soon, though, he swallows, and he calms as it eases the pressure in his ears. He leans forward and relaxes against Din, settling against his chest, and Din lets out a relieved breath and presses a kiss to his cheek.

Karga defending him against another hunter is… surprising.

But the kid doesn’t cry again. As they stabilize in the air, Din takes off their seatbelt to relax, and the nap continues for the next hour. But soon he’s awake again, wriggling around, eager to get up and move.

“No -- you can’t,” Din mumbles. The baby sits up, hands planted against Din’s chest, and he stares at him before looking around at the other passengers. Karga gives him a smile. He gets more smiles and a wave from the husband and wife on the other side of the aisle.

“Hiii!” he calls, waving. The pacifier falls from his mouth and Din shoots a hand out to catch it.

“Hello,” the woman says with a smile. She looks at Din. “He’s adorable.”

“Thanks,” Din says.

After some more fussing, he manages to get the child set up in his lap with the tablet, playing some downloaded cartoons with earbuds on low. It gives Din the distraction to stretch out, pull off his overcoat, make sure his under jacket is zipped to hide the gun.

The baby is staring at the screen, eyes big, fascinated by the  _ Trolls _ movie. Din reaches past him for the bag of emergency Cheerios, setting it at his side for its needed use, and sighs when he can feel Karga’s eyes watch him through the movement.

“What?” he says.

“Nothing.” But Karga is smirking. “It’s just fascinating to see you so turned around.”

Din rolls his eyes. “You know my people like children, right?” he says. “Killing isn’t the only thing I know how to do?”

“Knowing it and  _ seeing  _ it are quite different. You seem like a natural.”

“He’s just well-behaved.”

“Where does Caleb come from?”

Din pauses, then shifts. The baby coos at the screen. “It was my father’s name,” he says.

“Your Mandalorian father?”

Din nods.

“Hm.” As Din lets out a breath and wraps a hand around the kid, thumb pressing into his back, Karga turns back to his book. “Of all the babies to be next to on a transcontinental flight, I think I’d pick him.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Din mutters. “There’s six hours left.”

They’ve burned through two movies, two diaper changes, half the bag of Cheerios and several episodes of  _ Pocoyo  _ before ‘Caleb’ is tired of the screen and fussing again. Din clears his lap and pushes his backpack beneath the seat, letting the baby stand on the floor between his feet. He whines and pushes at Din’s knee as he holds onto it. “Dada!”

“No, you can’t crawl around,” Din says. “We’re landing soon. And we’ll see Cara.”

That makes the baby’s head turn and he looks up at Din. “Ca-we,” he says. “Cawe!”

“Yep.” Din lifts him back up into his lap. “It’ll be warm. We can go to the beach. See the ocean.”

The kid falls against his chest, then turns over on his back, arching his back with his head on Din’s shoulder. “Oh-seen,” he says, sticking a thumb in his mouth.

Din pulls his shirt down to cover his belly. “Ocean, yeah,” he says.

The flight attendants walk by to collect trash and lift trays. One attendant, a blonde, has passed repeatedly and her eyes linger on them with a smile, and he’s unsure if it’s an adoring smile for the kid or a flirtatious one for him. Instead he just focuses on getting the kid into the sling, who’s fussy and aggravated. “Just sit,” he grumbles.

When they’re getting off the plane, the kid is squirmy but held in place by the sling and Din adjusts his hat to shield his face before getting up. His backpack slips over his shoulders, he gets out the overhead suitcase, and his coat goes over one arm. Getting into the aisle and off the plane is an aggravation, but quickly every bounty hunter is moving off the aircraft and into the airport.

He pulls his phone out with one hand, pulling up Cara’s contact. He begins a call, walking as it rings, wheeling the suitcase behind him as they head for the luggage pickup.

_ “Mando!” _

“We just got off. You here?”

_ “A few minutes out. Traffic is the usual shit.” _

“We’ll need time for the bags, anyway.”

_ “How’s the little one?” _

“Good. Fussy. But he wasn’t a nightmare.”

_ “Good. I’ll be outside.” _

Din nods and the call ends. The baby has fallen quiet as he looks around at their surroundings, until they’re down at the baggage claim and standing amongst others.

God, he’s tired. His legs have the strange feeling of having been bent for hours, finally straight again. He shifts his weight between his feet, hands on his hips as they wait.

“Dada,” the kid mumbles.  _ “Cawe.” _

“Yeah, we gotta get our stuff first,” Din says with a grumble. But the kid squirms and whimpers, so Din picks him up out of the sling and sets him down on the floor by their carry-on. He doesn’t try to crawl, instead beginning to play with the zipper.

It takes several minutes of waiting before their suitcases come. One black bag comes, then a second, his name tagged to them. He’s getting one onto its wheels when he’s tapped on the shoulder and he looks up.

The husband and wife from across the aisle stand there, holding their own bags. “He was a delight,” she says with a smile. “A very good flier. Enjoy your trip.”

Din stares at her a moment, then straightens. “Thank you,” he says. “You, too.” They both give him a smile before they turn and walk away. Most of the baggage crowd has disappeared, and for a moment he just looks at the suitcases, wondering how he’s going to get them all efficiently to Cara’s car, wherever it is--

“Oh my  _ god,  _ Bean--”

Din stops and looks down first, but the baby is gone. For a split second, his heart threatens to seize, but he looks towards the voice instead.

Cara is there, wearing a white blouse with rolled up sleeves and fitted jeans, crouching down. There’s a delighted expression on her face, her arms out, and the baby is on his feet,  _ walking  _ towards her with his arms up for balance.

Din stares at him.

The kid manages the several feet between them until he tumbles forward, catching himself on the floor with his hands before Cara is there to scoop him up and onto her hip. She walks over to Din with a grin, “Were those his first steps?”

“Y… Yeah.” Din stares at the kid. “His first steps.”

“And for  _ me.  _ Aw, Bean.” Cara smiles at the baby, then reaches out and grabs one of the suitcase handles. “C’mon, I’m in the pickup lane. Let’s get going.”

Din nods and grabs the two other bags, pulling them out through the doors and into the warmth of California.


	2. By the Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din takes the chance to lean back, bury his feet in the sand, and let the tension leave his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note for this series:
> 
> What's planned right now is a series of one-shots in this universe. The largest focus is on Din and the baby's relationship, and how it's affected by their situation. In the future, I plan on eventually creating a main fic to bring it all together as a cohesive narrative (rather than the current bouts of cute.)
> 
> If you like the story and want to talk about it, come join the [discord!](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N)  
> Follow me on [tumblr](https://coffee-quill.tumblr.com/). Feel free to yell at me and fill my inbox with anything Mandalorian.

“How have things been?”

“Quiet.” Din runs a hand through his hair before pulling his cap back on. The Los Angeles air is warm without being too hot, wind whipping past the car as they drive. “You?”

“Pretty quiet. Not a lot to report on.” Cara’s eyes are fixed to the road, hidden behind sunglasses, wind whipping through her hair. They slow at a red light, and she glances up and back at the kid. He’s strapped into his seat, eyes big as he watches the palm trees shoot past. “Usual Guild business. This his first time?”

“I’ve given him baths, that’s it,” Din says. He shakes his head. “Never seen the ocean.”

“We’ll be sure to get pictures, then. Baby’s first beach trip.”

Din rolls his eyes, but smiles.

He won’t admit aloud that part of him has been longing for something like this. A day to just  _ relax,  _ truly, feet in the sand and tanning. That he  _ wants  _ to get sandy while he shows the kid how to make sandcastles. It’s so  _ stupidly  _ domestic, but he’s always had a craving for that sort of thing.

“Dada, pretasha suidafah! Dada,  _ pretasha.  _ Loo- _ ook!” _

“Yeah, I see, kid,” Din says. “The trees are pretty.”

Cara glances at him with a smile.

They park in a lot between two boardwalk shops. It’s a gorgeous day, and he’s wearing  _ flipflops  _ for the first time in… forever. He gets out of the car and goes to the back as Cara opens the trunk, and Caleb is cooing and kicking in his seat. He’s got a new set of green swim trunks on with a white t-shirt, complete with green flipflops of his own, and he’s eager to get out of the car. He blinks against the sun, pressing his cheek into Din’s chest.

“Iss ha, dad-dy,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, it’s hot. But we got an umbrella, okay?”

“Mm. Kay.”

Din presses a kiss to his temple before walking around to the trunk. Cara takes the beach bag -- a large blue and white bag with towels, sunscreen, dollar store beach toys, and snacks. Under one arm goes her chair, then the cooler of waters and beer. Din grabs the baby bag for over his shoulder, their two chairs, and the umbrella. It’s an awkward weight to balance, but the trunk closes and they start towards the beach.

It’s a crowded day. The water will be far too cold to swim in, but the sun feels hot and there’s a gentle breeze; the UV is up there and plenty of people are laying out to tan. Din and Cara get across the boardwalk, then step onto the hot sand.

“Dada!” the baby shrieks. He looks down at the sand and points. “Whatsababit!”

“It’s sand,” Din says. “It’s hot.”

“S… Sen. Ha.”

“The sand is hot, yeah.”

Caleb makes a satisfied noise.

They both find a spot that isn’t too closed in and both are happy to drop the stuff. Cara lays out a towel first so Din can put the kid on it, then both set to work on folding the chairs and digging in the umbrella. Caleb stares at the sand, then puts his hands out on the towel, rolling over onto his belly before working up to his feet.

Din gives him a glance.

The baby gurgles and balances, holding himself up, then stands and stares at the sand. He takes a step forward, then another, toes burying into the warmth. He gurgles, then whimpers and falls back onto the towel. “Dada! Ha! Cawe! Iss ha!”

Din gives the umbrella another drive into the sand before he turns and scoops the toddler up, brushing the sand off his trunks. “Yeah, hot. You’re okay.”

“Iss too ha, Dada.” Caleb leans his head into Din’s bicep.

“That’s what the umbrella is for. See?”

Din grabs one of the chairs and puts it beneath the shade while Cara places another on the other side of the pole. Both sink down into them with delighted sighs and Caleb is seated in Din’s thigh.

In an instant, they both reach for the cooler.

The lids pop open with a satisfying  _ snap _ and Din takes a long sip. The familiar burn is relaxing and he can’t remember the last time he drank. Not since the kid, not since his budget was restricted to staying alive and buying baby supplies. The said baby watches him with big eyes, then leans closer, reaching a hand towards the can.

“Wan,” he mumbles.

Din moves it back out of his reach. “No.”

“Wan!”

“No. It’s not for you.”

“Wan! Dada, wan!” Caleb shrieks, then climbs higher into Din’s lap and reaches for the can. “Meeee!”

“I said no. You have -- want juice?”

_ “Wan!” _

“Hey, Bean!” Cara swoops in to the rescue, lifting the baby off Din and setting him on her hip instead. “We got you some apple juice, remember? Let’s try that instead of Daddy’s drink.”

Din gives Cara a grateful look, who just rolls her eyes as she digs out the juice boxes.

The full tantrum is averted as Caleb sits in Cara’s lap, sucking on a straw as he stares out towards the ocean. Din takes the chance to lean back, bury his feet in the sand, and let the tension leave his body.

A cool breeze passes, and his eyes close.

_ “Udesii!” _

“NO!”

The kid screams and pulls away, held only by the waistband of his swim trunks as Din has two fingers hooked on it. In his other hand, he holds the sunscreen spray, and barely any has made it onto the actual child.

“Caleb,” Din says, not that the baby responds to his new name anyway. He sighs and gives a tug before he catches the kid around the waist, dragging him to his chest. Caleb squirms hard against him, letting out another shriek. “Stop it.”

“COLD!”

“It’s only a few seconds, calm--”

“Din,” Cara says, and she tosses an orange bottle at him. He lets go of the kid to catch it. “Cream might work.”

Din looks down at the lotion, then flicks it open. “Mayb-- hey!”

The kid disappears through Din’s legs, popping out on the other side, and Din turns just as Caleb squirms down beneath the beach chair to be nearly  _ pressed  _ between it and the sand. Pleading whimpers escape, hiccups threatening to continue the tantrum.

“Dada, no,” Caleb begs. “No, no. No!”

“You need sunscreen,” Din says.

“No.”

“Come out.”

“No!”

Din sighs and just lifts the chair off him, setting it aside, and manages to snatch him up before he can crawl to more shelter. “Stop,” he says firmly. “You’re going to get sand in places and you’ll itch. You’ll burn without sunscreen.”

Caleb stands between his legs and cries, gasping sobs that rattle him as Din brushes off as much sand as he can find. With his arms looped around the kid, he opens the sunscreen again and squirts out a palmful before he starts to rub him down with it.

He’s firm with rubbing it in and Caleb rocks with his movements, but slowly, the cries begin to dissipate. Din gets it over his back, chest and belly, and when he takes more for his arms, Caleb leans in to put his forehead against Din’s chest.

“Dada,” he whispers.

“I’m here,” Din says, bending down to plant a kiss against his head.

Caleb is quiet from then on. He takes the sunscreen, and only pouts a little when Din rubs it into his face. Din knows he passes as white, especially when his job has him covered up to protect his identity. But the baby is  _ pale.  _ Better if he gets a little sun  _ without  _ burning.

And without sand in his trunks to get a rash.

He leans his forehead against the baby’s and that calms him the most. He coos softly and Din runs a hand through his hair before letting go. “Good boy.”

Caleb gurgles.

Din reaches for his own shirt, then hesitates. His hands are frozen for a few seconds before he grips the hem and lifts it over his head, refusing to look down at himself as he grabs the spray and starts to coat his skin.

He’s covered in crisscrossing scars, some light and some deep, some just faded white lines while others are jagged and the hair doesn’t grow there anymore. There’s white bullet holes riddling his body, each one with a story, each one a reminder of when he’d nearly died.

One of them, in his right shoulder, he’d taken to protect the child in front of him.

The scarring and burns on his arms can be covered with tattoos -- a mythosaur skull on his right bicep, a Mandalorian saying  _ Aliit ori'shya tal'din  _ scrawled around his left in two bands. A gun with a heartbeat line behind it, flowers around the bottom on his back. He’s adorned in more, commemorative ink to a people that barely exist anymore. Ink that doesn’t mean shit to anyone else.

“Dada?”

Din’s snapped out of his thoughts and he looks down. Caleb stares up at him, eyes big, and he takes one, then two shaky steps towards him.

“Yeah, Daddy’s here,” he murmurs. He reaches into the beach bag and grabs a green child’s boonie hat. He sticks it on the kid before picking him up, and he sets him on his hip to meet Cara down at the water.

The Pacific is, of course, absolutely freezing. Din and Cara both step in for the waves to lap at their ankles, but anything else is just too cold. The baby stares out at the ocean, eyes squinted at the sun’s reflection, and he squirms. “Dada, dun, dun.”

“It’s too cold.”

“Cold?”

“Cold.”

Caleb looks at him with skepticism. So Din lowers down and the baby gives the water a hard  _ smack,  _ droplets popping up around them. He squeaks, then he whimpers and curls back into Din. “Cold!” he whines, and shoves his hand against Din’s side.

“Ca-” Din sucks in a breath as the tiny frozen hand presses on his skin, then hears Cara’s laugh and sighs. “I  _ told  _ him.”

“You’re just not worth listening to.” Cara grins.

Din rolls his eyes.

“So, I want to ask.” Cara looks at him. She steps out of the water, pushing her toes into the wet sand. “How’s the future look to you?”

Din steps out, too, and puts the kid down to let him stand. “What do you mean?”

“Well.” Cara puts her hands on her waist, looking down at Caleb. “You’ve got him. That’s a huge lifestyle change. But… Gideon is gone. Karga is itching to have you working for the Guild again.”

“We don’t know that Gideon is gone,” Din mutters.

“Din, you blew his chopper out of the sky. I don’t think he managed to cheat death again.”

“I can’t take that risk!” The baby starts to walk around Din, holding onto his legs for balance. “I can’t. It’s… I want to come back. God knows I need that income. But we can’t be sitting ducks. If Gideon survived that crash, and he comes back twice as hard, then being here with the Guild is… too damn easy to set up a trap. He’ll take Caleb. He’ll do whatever he wants to him.”

Cara looks down at the baby, then crosses her arms. “You don’t sound like you can be convinced otherwise,” she says. “But I  _ don’t  _ think it’s going to happen. Karga’s willing to adjust things for you. Keep it remote. Transfer you the info instead of face to face. Different offload sites.”

Din frowns. He shifts on his feet and Caleb stops to look up at him before he plops down on the ground at Din’s foot, reaching out to take a handful of wet sand.

“I’ll think about it,” he says.

“Think about it,” Cara agrees. “You’ve been doing great with the kid, but that’s been on the road. I think it’d be much  _ better  _ if you could have stability. And not to be selfish…” She smiles. “But I’d like having you around a lot more. You’re a hell of a lot more capable than the hunters I deal with every day.”

Din manages a smile, then looks towards the boardwalk. Another cool breeze blows past, and he takes off his cap to run a hand through his hair before putting it back on. He looks at the baby.

“I think I want to adopt him,” he says.

Cara looks at him with raised eyebrows and a smile.

“Officially,” he says. “Karga offered to pull things to get him a real birth certificate. But he doesn’t… I want more than that. I want him to be  _ mine.  _ For the damn New Republic to acknowledge it. So there’s no barriers and I have a claim.”

Cara tilts her head to the side. “Did something… happen?”

Din shifts on his feet, hesitating, and he’s quiet for a moment. “A few months ago,” he mutters. “We got pulled over for speeding. Cop let me go with a warning, but… he was looking real hard at the kid in the backseat. There was an amber alert for a missing child, and it… just…”

“It spooked you,” Cara says.

Din bites his lip and nods. “Yeah. It was… the realization that they  _ can  _ take him. Whatever reason they want -- I get caught in a bad spot or I don’t have the paperwork, they can take him away and put him with someone else and I  _ never  _ see him again. Someone who can’t protect him, who won’t understand his powers. That I don’t have any rights in that scenario. It’s…  _ terrifying.” _

Cara looks at him, then down at the baby, and she crouches down. Caleb looks up, hands full of sand, then coos before getting to his feet and toddling towards her. She gives him a smile before picking him up, setting him on her hip.

“We’ll see what we can do,” she says. “The sh-- stuff you’ve been through, Din -- you deserve to have him.”

“I’ll do the damn red tape,” Din sighs. “The… the court hearings and caseworkers and… home visits, I don’t know what goes into adoption. But whatever it takes.”

“Karga might know some people,” Cara says. “I have some old contacts who might be willing to help. He needs documents, but we’ll get you there somehow. Din,  _ breathe.” _

Din lets out a breath and crosses his arms. “I know,” he mumbles. “I know. I… appreciate it.”

Caleb has leaned forward and buried his face into Cara’s shoulder, the boonie hat falling back and only held by the string. “Cawe,” he mumbles, “Cawe.”

“Right here, hun,” Cara says with a smile, pulling the hat back on. She adjusts him in her arms. She looks up at Din. “The pool at the house is a lot warmer. Less sandy.”

Din nods with a smile himself, and Caleb turns to look at him. “Dada,” he mumbles, and sticks a thumb in his mouth before closing his eyes.

“Guess the sand castles can wait.”

The kid naps on Din’s chest, letting him and Cara both get some shut-eye as well in the chairs before they’re eventually packing up again. Sandy and tired, they walk back to the car, and Caleb is tired and cranky as he’s strapped into his seat.

“Dada,  _ nooo,”  _ he whimpers, pushing at the belt and kicking.

“Shh,” Din says. He’s sure the kid is just moody, not itching or burned. Din himself feels sticky from sunscreen. But he can check at the house.

Several minutes into the car ride, the baby finally settles.

Cara’s residence is a beautiful, large property shared with two other hunters, supported by Karga who clearly wants to keep her around. The three live in separate wings of the house, rarely having to interact, and Din doesn’t mind the other hunters. They’re… probably the most  _ decent  _ hunters the Guild has in terms of manners.

Not that Din would  _ trust  _ them with the kid.

The beach things are dropped off in an outdoor shed and they walk through to the kitchen. “Pool?” Cara asks.

“Sure.”

The pool in the back is a beautiful clear blue, taking up most of the yard and surrounded by trees. They have privacy as they walk out to the lounge chairs, sitting there with beers in hand and the baby placed on the ground. Caleb stares at it all with big eyes, then watches Din and Cara sit with the  _ cracks  _ of cans opening.

“God,” Din says. “You live the fucking life, don’t you?”

Cara laughs, then takes a sip. “It’s the  _ life  _ when there’s no bullets flying.” She gestures towards the house. “Had to replace three windows from last week. A target’s friends came back on Harani, followed her back here.”

“Shit,” Din mumbles before taking a long gulp of beer.

Caleb gets to his hands and knees, starting to crawl towards the pool. He coos until he reaches the gate, grabbing onto the black metal and using it to stand. He stares through to the glistening water, then turns back.

“Smim!” he says. “Dada. Smim! Smim!”

Din sighs and sets the can aside to get up. “Yeah. Okay. We’ll swim.”

He gets up and slips his shirt off, this time with less hesitation -- Cara’s seen the scars, the baby has never seemed to notice. He walks over, scoops Caleb up, and opens the gate.

The water is warm -- a bit cool, but he’ll be used to it quick. Caleb shrieks when his feet hit the water and giggles when Din lowers them in, the water reaching his belly. He splashes his hands into it and shrieks again when the droplets hit them. “Dada! Dada, look!”

“I see, yeah,” Din says, and Caleb looks  _ delighted. _

Din steps back towards the deep end, letting the water come up to his own shoulders and just below the baby’s. He spins around and Caleb laughs, leaning back. Din keeps a hand on his back for support before bringing him back up.

Cara sits at the side of the pool, her feet in the water, smiling. She holds her own beer, Din’s beside her, and Din comes over to grab and take a drink. He puts it back before the kid can reach for it, and instead leans against the wall.

“He loves this,” Din says.

“He does,” Cara says with a smile.

Din adjusts the kid. A cool breeze goes past and Caleb shivers, pressing into Din’s chest. Din lowers them down into the water, just beneath the baby’s neck, and Caleb coos before he pushes a hand against the thick scar that runs across Din’s chest. “Bomp,” he mumbles, patting it. “Bomp, bomp.”

Din holds him tight against his chest, then reaches for his beer for another swig, relaxing against the wall. When he sets the can aside again, he presses his cheek to the kid’s head.

“Caleb Djarin,” he murmurs beneath his breath, and the baby smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Udesii -- calm down!
> 
> The [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N)  
> Follow me on [tumblr](https://coffee-quill.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a:  
> Nu nuhoy - no sleep
> 
> The [discord](https://discord.gg/UwZuG6N)  
> Follow me on [tumblr](https://coffee-quill.tumblr.com/)


End file.
